


First Meeting

by disdainfreely



Series: Of Medics and Gladiators [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-15 21:06:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17536262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disdainfreely/pseuds/disdainfreely
Summary: Megatron is apprenticed to Ratchet at his Dead End clinic, and it's going pretty well.He isn't prepared for the new patient that comes stumbling through the door.





	First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> And we have the continuation of this medic!Megatron and gladiator!Soundwave AU! This one is actually more of a prequel, back to Megatron and Soundwave first meeting.

Megatron busies himself cleaning up after their last patient. He may have graduated from merely cleaning and organizing tools to actually assisting with medical care, but cleaning is still entirely his responsibility. He wipes down and sterilizes the berth and puts away the few tools that Ratchet had had to use. It was a minorly bent axle, certainly nothing particularly complicated, but it’s still exciting to actually get to watch a trained medic work. Megatron can only aspire to be anywhere near as capable as Ratchet. Maybe someday. He’s just finished cleaning up the station they used when the familiar sound of the clinic door opening catches his attention.

“Hello, Ratchet just ran to the back, but he’ll be right ba--Primus, Ratchet!” Megatron had been half-turning to greet the new patient when his optics had caught the vibrant pink of energon at the mech’s feet. Looking up only confirms his fears. The mech has his hand clamped over a deep wound in his chassis. Megatron drops the mop he’d been using in favor of rushing forward when the mech’s legs give out from under him.

“Soundwave!” A horde of tiny mechs tumble in the door in a tangle of legs, paws and wings. Megatron stares at them for a moment, but his attention is diverted by the heavy weight of the wounded mech in his arms.

“Ratchet!” Megatron calls again, more urgently. He heaves his new patient--Soundwave, apparently--more firmly into his arms, wincing a little at the groan of pain it pulls out of the mech.

“Primus, Megatron!” Ratchet emerges from the back office and rushes over to help Megatron lift Soundwave onto a free berth. “What happened?”

“Soundwave’s a Pit fighter!” One of the little mechs pipes up. “Mech he was fighting got a grip on his deck. He’s leakin’ real bad.” Ratchet practically growls as he looks Soundwave over. He passed out at some point, but that’s probably for the best. 

“Megatron, get the heaviest patches. A pile of them. And get me clean rags. Now.” Ratchet is already examining the wound, which is still steadily pumping energon out of Soundwave’s frame.

Megatron knows better than to anything but obey. As soon as he returns with the requested supplies, Ratchet is immediately guiding Megatron’s hands into the gaping wound. 

“Go ahead and pinch those lines off like I’ve showed you. We’ve got to get the leaking stopped.” Ratchet is already busy preparing the patches, almost working too fast for Megatron to track.

“Is he gonna be okay?” A small voice pipes up from the level of Megatron’s shins.

“Let us work, and he might be,” Ratchet growls. There’s an uneasy silence after that, as Megatron does his best to stop the flow of energon that’s slowly soaking his hands and Ratchet hurries to fuse patches onto the torn lines. Megatron can almost feel Ratchet physically relax as the worst of the leaking stops. “There. Megatron, get a line set up to get his fuel levels up. Then we’ll see about getting that gaping hole fixed.” Ratchet cleans his hands and then begins to gently wipe the grime off the injury.

“So he’s gonna be okay?” Megatron looks down at the little mechs who all look desperately afraid. Now that Soundwave isn’t actively bleeding out, he can spare a moment to study the little huddle at his feet. It’s a pair of mechlings, identical except for their paint colors; one dark, black quadruped; and a pair of fliers.

“He should be fine, if Megatron stops gaping and actually gets that fuel line in him,” Ratchet says without looking up. Megatron accepts the reprimand without complaint and hurries to obey. He gets the line set up and double-checks that there are no kinks in the tubing before taking the rag that Ratchet pushes into his hands. Most of the injury is already cleaned, but Megatron carefully finishes the last few crevices and applies the nanite gel that Ratchet has gotten out.

“Be generous with that. It’s going to take a bit for us to get that plating replaced,” Ratchet instructs, leaning over to make sure Megatron is doing an adequate job. Once he’s satisfied, he nods and steps back to look at the little mechs who are still very much underfoot. “Alright, you lot. Up onto that berth there before you get stepped on. Your carrier is going to be fine.” Megatron watches them clamber up to the indicated berth. They’re all still huddled together with their optics locked on Soundwave’s still frame.

“Now what?” Megatron asks as he closes the the tub of nanite gel.

“Now you’re going to learn about cassette carrier frames,” Ratchet says calmly. 

“Wait, he doesn’t know what he’s doing and he’s gonna muck around in Soundwave’s dock?” One of the mechlings objects. The quadruped growls.

“He’s an apprentice and he’s learning,” Ratchet replies, in a surprising display of patience. “I’m an Academy-trained medic, however, and I do know what I’m doing. Hush and let me work.” It’s gentler than Ratchet’s usual, and Megatron gives him a sidelong look. “Alright, Megatron, come over here and look at this.” Ratchet has his fingers in the wound. “A carrier’s dock has extensive wiring and energon tubes running around it. Our patient here is lucky that none of the larger fuel lines got torn, or he wouldn’t have made it here.” One of the fliers makes a frightened sound and Ratchet lowers his voice to try and keep from upsetting them further. “As it is, you see the chunk that got taken out here?” Megatron follows Ratchet’s fingers and nods. “That’s part of his dock. It’s going to need to be rebuilt before any of his cassettes can dock again.”

“Do we have the supplies for that?” Megatron asks quietly. Ratchet nods, clearly still examining the damage. 

“We do, and you’re going to be doing the repairs.” Ratchet grins at Megatron’s expression. “I’ll be watching, don’t worry. You need hands-on training for this frametype. Better you learn how to repair a dock while I’m here to catch your mistakes.” Megatron hesitates. Ratchet is right, of course. He usually is.

“Alright.” Megatron smiles at the reassuring clap on his arm.

“I’ll go get the supplies. Wait here and brace yourself.” Ratchet gives him one last grin and heads to the supply closet. Megatron vents heavily. He can do this. If Ratchet thinks he’s ready, he probably is. Hopefully.

“Hey. You’re gonna fix him, right? He’s gonna be okay?” Megatron looks over at the huddle of cassettes.

“He’s going to be fine. Ratchet is the best.”

“It looks pretty bad,” the red mechling says nervously.

“It’ll be okay. Ratchet can fix anything.” Megatron isn’t sure how best to offer comfort.

“Yes, but what can you fix?” the black quadruped asks, optics narrowed. “Since you’re the one doing the fixing?” Megatron blinks in surprise. He hadn’t thought that anyone could hear Ratchet speaking so quietly.

“He’s going to be watching. I’ll do my best and Ratchet won’t let me do anything wrong.” He gropes for more words, more reassurances he can give to these clearly doubting cassettes. “Ratchet wants to ensure that I can treat Soundwave if he comes in again and Ratchet isn’t here.” The logic seems to be something they can’t argue with, but they still look suspicious. Megatron wishes he knew more about carrier and cassette relationships to know how best to offer comfort, but there hadn’t been any at Megatron’s mine and there aren’t all that many among the lower castes that can survive for any length of time.

Ratchet returns pushing a cart covered in surgical tools and parts for repair. Megatron vents heavily. Right. He doesn’t just have to convince the cassettes he can perform surgery. He actually has to do it. Primus. He hopes he can.

“Right. First things first. Get that pain chip into his wrist port so he stays in stasis while you’re doing this.” Ratchet hands the chip to Megatron, who gingerly accepts it. “It’s already the right grade for him, since we know he doesn’t have any cassettes tucked in there. If you don’t know, though, you have to check. Normally you’d want to get them out of there before you started doing any work on him.”

“Why?” Megatron asks, already gently taking hold of Soundwave’s hand and turning it over to get access to the small port on his inner wrist.

“Because you don’t want to have to deal with any more systems than you have to. The cassettes might be built to dock in their carrier, but they are separate mechs, and if you ever have to try and calibrate a dosage to be effective in two separate systems at the same time, you’ll find out exactly how hard it is.”

Megatron does have to admit that Ratchet has a point. He makes sure that the pain chip is securely inserted into Soundwave’s wrist port. Now it’s actually time for surgery. Right. He can do this. Ratchet is here.

“Alright, let’s start with his dock and work outwards. Luckily, none of the vital ports in the back of his dock were hurt. If they were, I’d be doing that work. Carrier systems can be finicky.” 

Megatron picks up his tools and carefully begins working under Ratchet’s sharp optics. Megatron has done some minor procedures on his own, but this is by far the most intensive work he’s ever had to do. It feels like it takes hours. Megatron knows that he’s definitely working for awhile, at least; other patients come in and catch sight of what’s happening. Some duck back out, but even more settle in to wait. He’s more than happy to set his tools down and step back when he’s finished. Soundwave’s chassis now has some ugly weldlines, but he’s going to recover.

“So you’re done? Is he gonna be okay?” One of the mechling cassettes demands anxiously.

“He’s going to be fine,” Ratchet pauses to look over at the cassettes. “He’s going to need rest and you all will have to hold off on docking until he’s more recovered. He should wake up by the end of the day.” A hush falls over the cassettes.

“How long until we can dock?” one of the fliers asks.

“I would advise against it until the welds in his dock fall off on their own. The last thing he needs is those welds getting scraped off by one of you.” Ratchet finishes cleaning his hands. “Megatron, get all this cleaned up and then come help me with everyone else who’s been waiting.” He heads off as soon as Megatron nods.

Of course, given the urgent nature of Soundwave’s injuries, Megatron had just put him on the berth closest to the door. He would probably rest better in a private room without everyone staring and the cassettes would stop taking up a whole second berth. As soon as Megatron has put the tools away, he fetches the gurney and begins the process of moving Soundwave’s still frame from his berth to the gurney.

“Where are you taking him?” One of the cassettes asks. Megatron doesn’t look up to see which it is.

“I’m moving him to one of the private rooms so he can rest better.” He carefully transfers the energon grip to the gurney as well. “You can stay with him in there too.” The cassettes seem cheered by this and scramble to follow Megatron as he takes Soundwave down the hall. It’s not very difficult to get Soundwave transferred to the new berth and carefully tucked in so his systems don’t have to strain to maintain his temperature. “Alright, you can sit with him as long as you don’t jostle any of his injuries. When he wakes up, come find Ratchet or I to check him over.”

“We will,” the quadruped promises, leaping gracefully up onto the berth and tucking himself against Soundwave’s side. Megatron turns to leave, but pauses and turns back.

“I don’t know any of your names.” 

The cassettes all seem surprised. They exchange looks and for a moment Megatron fears that he’s violated some tenet of carrier and cassette culture. All five sets of optics turn back to him.

“My name is Ravage,” says the quadruped finally. “The fliers are Laserbeak and Buzzsaw. The idiots are Rumble and Frenzy.”

“Hey!” Both mechlings object in unison. Megatron tries and fails to contain a smile. 

“Good to meet you all. Ratchet needs my help, but come get me if you need anything.” He receives a sound of assent in between what’s clearly about to become an argument between Ravage and Rumble and Frenzy. Megatron considers asking for clarification as to which twin is which, but they’re already bickering and he doesn’t need to get in the middle of it. He slips out of the room and quietly closes the door behind himself. 

A number of mechs came in while Ratchet and Megatron were working on Soundwave. Megatron spends the rest of the day rushing from one patient to the next. He’s still not supposed to do much without Ratchet’s approval, so most of the patients have to wait to see Ratchet himself. Megatron can fetch things, clean rooms and tools, and handle minor follow-ups like checking on healed injuries. He doesn’t resent the restrictions; on days when it’s slower and Ratchet can supervise, Megatron gets to do a significant amount of hands-on treatment. 

Eventually, finally, they manage to work through all the mechs who have come in needing treatment. Ratchet locks the door with a groan. The clinic will continue to take emergency cases through the night, as long as Ratchet is available, but the regular cases will have to wait.

“Alright, Megatron, finish cleaning those last few tools and then we’ll go check on our gladiator friend.” Ratchet leans against the counter, tiredly flexing his hands to work the stiffness out of his joints. Megatron looks up at his tone.

“Is there something wrong with gladiators?” Megatron asks. Ratchet has never previously shown any inclination to judge mechs for what they have to do to survive.

“No, no,” Ratchet shakes his head. “Nothing is wrong with them, really. Mechs do what they have to do, but there’s a certain type of mech that can survive long-term in the Pits and they often aren’t the safest or most stable.” Megatron supposes he can’t argue with that logic. “Just be cautious around them, is all I’m saying.” Ratchet watches Megatron finish up. “You did a good job with that surgery earlier.” Megatron can’t fully contain his smile. Ratchet doesn’t give compliments he doesn’t mean.

“Thank you. I don’t think I’m ready to do it on my own yet, though.”

“Not yet,” Ratchet agrees, “but soon. Now, let’s get some fuel before we go deal with our gladiator. I know I could use some and I bet you could too.” Ratchet isn’t wrong, and Megatron is grateful to have a moment to relax and sip a cube with Ratchet in a companionable silence.

“Hey! Hey doc!” Megatron looks up in surprise as Rumble-or-Frenzy runs down the hall. “Hey, Soundwave’s up!” 

Ratchet sighs. “We’re coming.” 

He knocks back the rest of his cube in a single gulp. Megatron hurries to do the same and follows Ratchet to Soundwave’s room. The gladiator’s visor is dimly lit and one hand is moving to pet Ravage in slow, even strokes. The cassette is purring. Rumble-or-Frenzy rushes in ahead of Ratchet and Megatron and clambers up on the berth.

“Hey, I went and got them.” Soundwave turns his attention to his returning cassette and the medics who are following him.

“Didn’t expect you to be awake yet,” Ratchet says in greeting.

“I owe you my thanks,” Soundwave replies. His voice is low and harmonic--Megatron has to take a moment to wonder if that voice is unique to Soundwave or common among his frametype. It’s certainly not like anything he’s ever heard before.

“I owe you some thanks too for giving my apprentice a case study in carrier frames.” Ratchet gestures vaguely to Megatron and steps forward to actually begin examining Soundwave’s injuries. Megatron stiffens a little as that deep red visor turns on him.

“Ratchet is right,” Megatron admits. “Thank you.” While he can’t read anything behind Soundwave’s visor and mask, he swears the mech is amused.

“I am still alive and in significantly less pain, so I think I owe you significantly more.” 

“Less talking; more resting,” Ratchet orders. “You were severely injured.” Soundwave still seems amused, but he does stop talking. “Megatron, you come over here and look at these welds. Tell me if they’ve set well.”

Megatron steps up next to the berth to look at the indicated welds. “They look well-set to me.” It’s odd to be discussing a patient while said patient is awake and looking at him. Ratchet seems pleased with the answer.

“Good. They are. You did an excellent job.” Megatron tries not to make his pride at the compliment too obvious. “It’ll make your life easier when you check up on him over the next few days.” Ratchet almost sounds smug. Damn him.

“Days?” Rumble-or-Frenzy asks.

“Days,” Ratchet nods. “A carrier with part of their dock ripped up needs medical supervision for days. Welcome to the clinic, Soundwave; you’re going to get to know us very well.”

Soundwave’s gaze returns to Megatron, who’s struck with the sudden sense that Ratchet is even more right than he knows. 

“I can think of worse things,” Soundwave rumbles.

Megatron could swear that the gladiator is smiling now, and he can feel that gaze boring into him. 

Primus.

Be cautious of gladiators indeed.


End file.
